


Won't Let You Go

by xxxillusionxxx



Series: Life is But a Dream [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Control, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Restraints, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxillusionxxx/pseuds/xxxillusionxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles lay on his stomach. His arms were sore from where they were held above his head, but the wounds on his wrists and ankles were healing now that he stopped fighting against the restraints. He still cried—he couldn’t figure out how his tears hadn’t dried up yet—but he kept his sobs quiet because Peter tended to spend less time in the room when he cried too loudly. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another one from the dark, fucked up places in my brain. Mind the warnings. This is part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone story.

Stiles was lost. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been like this, tied down and blindfolded. Peter never let him up for anything other than a trip to the bathroom, and even then, the blindfold stayed on. It could have been a few hours or a few days since he’d given up on begging. 

Now, he simply lay face down on the bed, his arms sore where they were stretched above his head. He kept his sobs quiet so that he could hear Peter opening the front door. Peter didn’t react well to his tears. 

He thought about Scott. That’s how this all started, with Scott. Peter had let him go grocery shopping by himself and rather than let Peter drive him, Stiles opted to walk and get some fresh air. 

Scott almost never ventured downtown—probably because of him now that he thought about it—so he was shocked when he ran into him and his girlfriend, Allison, outside the video store. 

“Oh…hey,” Stiles said awkwardly, looking down when their eyes met. He didn’t need to see the judgment there. 

“Stiles,” Scott said like he was seeing someone back from the dead, “Wow, you look…I mean…how are you doing?” 

Stiles looked up quickly and saw that Scott looked as awkward as he felt. 

“Yeah I’ve been doing better lately. I’m trying to, you know, cut down…” he trailed off, wondering why he was telling Scott this when he hadn’t spoken to him in over three years. 

Scott was really quiet for a long moment and Stiles twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands.

“Stiles, I’m…I’m really sorry about the things I said before you left. No matter what happens between us, you’re still my brother and I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready to…you know…quit,” Scott said earnestly. 

Stiles looked up at Scott and felt his heart swell at the concern he saw in his former friend’s eyes. He missed that, having someone care. 

“Thanks, man,” Stiles said quietly. 

Scott just smiled at him until Allison elbowed him in the side. 

“Oh, Oh yeah! Here, let me give you my new phone number. What’s your number? I’ll text you,” he said. 

Stiles squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Um, I don’t have a phone…” he said.

“Oh, ok that’s fine, I’ll write my number down for you then. I know I blocked you from Facebook but I unblocked you almost a year ago so you can always talk to me that way if you can get to a computer,” Scott said, unperturbed. 

Stiles smiled hesitantly and shrugged. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stiles had spent more time going over the interaction in his head than shopping when he finally made it to the grocery store. He remembered Scott’s smile and his concern. He remembered how close they used to be before Stiles went AWOL, and he made up his mind before he made it to the check out.  
\------------------------

“Peter, I want to quit,” Stiles said later that night when he finished making dinner. 

Peter froze, his hand on the chair he was about to pull out. 

“You what?” he asked. 

“I want to quit. I’ve been cutting back for a while and I saw Scott today and I just…I want to try being sober,” Stiles said quietly. 

Stiles didn’t know what he expected Peter’s reaction to be, but it certainly didn’t involve wolfing out and tearing the kitchen apart.

Stiles collapsed into a corner and covered his head, waiting for the backlash to turn on him. He didn’t have to wait long. Peter walked up to him and grabbed his hair, dragging him towards the bedroom. Stiles screamed and apologized, trying and failing to get his footing, but Peter didn’t even look back at him. 

He threw him on the bed like dirty laundry, grabbing him by the ankle and dragging him back when he tried to roll over the opposite side. Stiles froze when Peter rested a clawed hand at his throat, and knew better than to move when he stepped away and started rummaging around in one of the draws. 

Stiles flinched when he saw the ropes. He hated being tied down and Peter knew it. 

“Peter, please! I don’t understand why you’re so upset! I’m sorry!” he cried desperately as his hands were tied roughly above his head. 

Peter glared down at him and started tying his legs to the other end of the bed. Stiles tried to swallow his sobs but he knew he failed when Peter smacked his stomach hard. By the time Peter came back with the blindfold, Stiles had himself somewhat under control. 

“Peter? What’s happening?” he asked, trying not to sound like a frightened child as the strip of cloth was tied around his eyes. 

He didn’t answer but Stiles felt a hand brush gently against his hair before he heard footsteps retreating and the bedroom door click shut. He lost track of time then. Peter came in and out, bringing him food, letting him use the bathroom, but never saying anything. 

Stiles stopped begging Peter to let him go after about the fourth time he brought food. Instead, he accepted the vegetables spooned into his mouth silently, his face cold where tear streaks evaporated. 

“Please talk to me,” he said brokenly just as Peter’s weight left the bed. 

There was a long silence then, and Stiles could feel Peter’s eyes on him. He held his breath and waited for a response, any response. Instead he heard footsteps on the carpet and the click of the door closing.  
\----------------------------------

Stiles lay on his stomach. His arms were sore from where they were held above his head, but the wounds on his wrists and ankles were healing now that he stopped fighting against the restraints. He still cried—he couldn’t figure out how his tears hadn’t dried up yet—but he kept his sobs quiet because Peter tended to spend less time in the room when he cried too loudly. 

He heard the front door open and waited for Peter to come to him. He had eaten eight times in the last however long he’d been tied to this bed. Peter had shot him up three times. He didn’t move when he heard the bedroom door open, but his whole being followed the sound of footsteps coming closer. 

Stiles felt a hand slide along his back to his buttocks, then slowly slide back up to rest on his head. He jumped when the grip suddenly tightened and dragged his head up. He was about to ask what was going on when he felt soft lips on his. 

Stiles moaned, desperate for more contact after being left alone for so long, and opened his mouth for Peter’s searching tongue. The kiss felt more intense than anything that Stiles could remember and it absorbed him completely. 

He didn’t feel the hand in his hair or the burn of the ropes or the soft press of the bed beneath him. There was only Peter in that moment. He was shocked out of the moment when he felt Peter’s hand sliding down his backside and two slick fingers probing at his entrance. 

Peter hadn’t done anything sexual with him since tying him up, but Stiles welcomed the change wholeheartedly. He would do anything to just feel more than a guiding hand on his arm or a brush against his head or lips. 

Stiles whined into the kiss and pushed his hips back as much as he was able. Peter chuckled into his mouth and pulled his hand away until Stiles settled back down. This continued for a while, until Stiles was a shaking mess and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Peter, please. Pleasepleaseplease Peter, please!” he said desperately, his voice rough with disuse. 

Peter kissed down his jawline and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood before pulling away. 

“Please, what?” he asked. 

Stiles couldn’t see him but he heard amusement and anticipation in his voice. He shivered just at the sound of it after so much time spent in silence. 

“Please fuck me!” Stiles gasped.

Apparently, he said the right thing because Peter immediate dropped his head back onto the pillows and settled into the space between Stiles’s bound legs. Stiles marveled at the fact that Peter was already undressed when he felt a blunt heat up against his entrance.

When Peter pushed in, all of Stiles’s thoughts flew out the window. His whole being zeroed in on the heat and burn between his legs. He whined and moaned and gasped Peter’s name like it was sacred. He pulled at the restraints, desperate to reach back and touch Peter as he pounded into him. 

Stiles felt Peter’s rhythm grow erratic and he grunted as Peter bit down where his neck met his shoulder with sharp, inhuman fangs. He felt heat release into him and he came with Peter’s name on his lips. They lay still in the afterglow and Stiles finally felt the tension in his stomach ease.

When Peter shifted and sat up, Stiles opened his mouth to protest before the blindfold disappeared. He closed his eyes against the light of the room, squinting and blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. When he could see he noticed that his hands and legs were now free. 

 

“Pet…” Stiles began but was cut off by a loud growl and hands twisting him around and pinning him down to the bed by his throat. 

Stiles stared up in fear at a wolfed out Peter, his airway constricted so that he could barely breathe.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Stiles. You can use, or quit, or do whatever you want to do when it comes to drugs however; you are mine. You can try to run away from me but I promise you that I will find you, and I will kill anyone else in my path. Do I make myself clear?” Peter growled out. 

Stiles moved his lips but couldn’t make any sound come out. Peter let up on his grip and Stiles desperately sucked in several lungfuls of air before he could speak. 

“Yes,” he finally rasped when he had caught his breath enough to do so. 

Peter snarled in his face but released his hold, getting off the bed and pulling his clothes back on while Stiles coughed and rubbed his numb wrists. 

“Take a shower, I’m ordering pizza tonight,” Peter said before leaving the room. 

Stiles stood up on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom. Part of him wanted to throw up and the rest of him just wanted to cry into Peter’s chest. He knew it was fucked up, but as crazy as Peter got sometimes, he never really hurt him and he was always there for him. Hell, it’s not like he had anyone else getting in line to soothe his fucked up feelings. 

His mind drifted to Scott again and he went into the shower. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was crying or not anymore.  
\---------------------------------

A few weeks later things had gone back to normal between him and Peter. Peter still gave him heroin but he kept weaning him off of it. His withdrawal symptoms were nearly constant now, but they were bearable and Peter helped him through the worst of it. 

They were cuddling on the couch watching a cheesy romantic comedy when Stiles finally worked up the nerve to ask Peter the question he’d had since he stepped out of the shower all those weeks ago. 

“Peter, can I use your laptop?” he asked quietly. 

The hand that had been stroking his side froze and tightened on his hip. 

“Why do you need my laptop?” he asked calmly, but his grip gave his mood away.

“Well I was thinking of doing some online courses or something so I could get a real job and contribute. And I wanted to talk to Scott on Facebook; he said he wanted to get back in contact and I just…” Stiles trailed off.

The grip on his hip loosened and after a moment Peter continued rubbing his side. 

“If that’s what you really want to do, I’m fine with it. As for Scott, you can contact him, but I will be screening your messages,” he said after a brief pause. 

Stiles sighed in relief and nuzzled further into Peter’s side. 

“Thank you,” he said.

He would work his way up to getting a phone so he could actually call Scott, but for now it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!!!](nightshadekisses.tumblr.com)


End file.
